


Get In Touch With Your Inner Clinginess

by Omnicat



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 08:42:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4870528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omnicat/pseuds/Omnicat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three weeks, two days and roughly five hours. Another week later, Trowa got frustrated enough to actually make the calculation, something he would have scoffed at himself for at the time of reunion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get In Touch With Your Inner Clinginess

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Nederlands available: [Intieme Aanvaringen Met Je Eigen Aanhankelijkheid](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9098074) by [CattyRosea (Omnicat)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omnicat/pseuds/CattyRosea)



When Heero came back, it had been three weeks, two days, and roughly five hours since Trowa had last seen him. Another week later, Trowa got frustrated enough to actually make the calculation, something he would have scoffed at himself for at the time of reunion.

Trowa was in the middle of a rehearsal when he spotted Heero, leaning his elbows on his knees in the gallery, and he waved and signalled ‘ten more minutes’. Eleven minutes later, they met at the bottom of the stands. Though he kept his shoulders stubbornly squared, Heero looked worn out, with hollow cheeks, bags under his eyes and a glassy quality to his gaze. Heero’s physique had never looked solid enough to be quite as strong as he was, but Trowa could have sworn he’d lost weight when he pulled him into a quick hug.

Their conversation on the way to the trailer was restricted to the basic ‘how did the assignment go’ and ‘did anything happen here while I was gone’. Not that they were a particularly talkative couple to begin with, but Heero’s exhaustion was showing. On the one hand, Trowa was glad for this, because the guesswork as to Heero’s condition (emotionally as well as physically) that had made up much of the early stages of their relationship had been rather aggravating, at times.

On the other hand, the record time it took Heero to undress for the night and race his way to dream land was, in its own way, equally frustrating.  
  
  
  
Later that night, Trowa was woken by the blaring of Heero’s alarm clock. In the dim glow of the moon he could see Heero’s fists digging into the mattress, while a sound of semi-conscious rage emanated from somewhere in the mess of brown bed-hair and face-filled pillow. Trowa reached over him to turn off the alarm and quietly slipped into the living area. Heero had the discipline of a kamikaze pilot and would have been able to die of dehydration while treading drinking water, but some compensation for having to leave the warm, comfy bed they shared would work wonders for his mood.

Heero gobbled up the boiled eggs whole (momentarily looking like a hamster as a result), washed them down with large gulps of coffee, stuck some fruit into the pockets of his Preventor jacket and clutched a stack of toast in one hand while he swiped up keys, wallet and gun with the other. It wasn’t until he had one foot out of the door that Heero turned back to Trowa, swung an arm around his neck and pulled him down into a hard kiss.

"See you tonight." he said, and swept off.

Trowa went back to bed with a smile and didn’t head out for his own breakfast until an hour fit for humans.

Heero was back in bed by the time Trowa returned to the trailer that night, after the show and the cleaning up. He grumbled a greeting when the lights came on in the living room, but when Trowa crawled under the covers and scooted over to him there were no more signs of life to be found. Trowa was rather put out by this.

He poked Heero in the underwear region. "Hey. You awake?"

"No." Heero said, sounding like he really wasn’t.

"Still tired?"

"Yes."

"What has Une done to you guys?"

"Twenty hour shifts. Long story."

Trowa usually rather liked Une. But when she pulled stuff like this - things like threatening to blow up colonies, or overworking Heero to such a degree - he really really didn’t. "Okay. Sleep tight."

Heero’s answer went along the lines of "mrlmrl".  
  
  
  
A few days later Trowa was the first to make it back, and he was waiting for Heero not in, but on the bed, wearing nothing but briefs and suspenders made of whipped cream. Heero came in with bleary eyes and froze on the doorstep. Comprehension dawned only slowly, hindered by the exhaustion, before he grimaced, stumbled toward Trowa, and dropped himself face-first onto the bed.

Trowa heaved a (mostly) mental sigh. "Either you are getting out of shape, or don’t you want me anymore."

"I will never admit to being out of shape." Heero told the mattress.

"You wound me." Trowa deadpanned, stuck the can of whipped cream in his mouth, and pulled the ‘trigger’.

Heero snorted.

  
  
At the time, Trowa wasn’t ‘wounded’. But as the days passed by and the pattern repeated itself, disappointment and frustration began to build.  
  
  
  
Heero made a bee-line for the refrigerator as soon as he came in. While rummaging, Trowa was granted a "What are you reading?".

"Freud."

Heero turned around, surprised. "The classic psychologist?"

A nod.

"Why?"

"I’ve been feeling passive-aggressive lately."

"Food?" Heero said as he sat down at the table opposite Trowa and happened to catch a glance at the pages of the book. "I thought Freud was all about sex."

"It’s a reprint of one of those pre-colony ‘child friendly’ editions. It uses food euphemisms and a lot of big words like procreation, copulation and reproduction." Trowa lied smoothly. "I have no idea where Cathy got it."

Heero worked through his sandwich and inhumanely strong coffee steadily, but not as fast as he did the pages of the file he had in front of him. Trowa continued reading his cook book.

Eventually, Heero rose, said "I gotta go. The Preventors need me.", and left again.

"Who would’ve guessed." Trowa murmured to the empty trailer.  
  
  
  
_He’s a psychic._ Trowa thought bitterly. _He knew I was gonna try cooking real food and he stayed the hell away on instinct._  
  
It was well past midnight when Heero finally returned. His cold food was wilting on the table while Trowa stewed and read a book.

It really was Freud this time.

For a moment, Heero and Trowa looked at each other. Then Heero shrugged, an uncharacteristic ‘what can you do?’ expression on his face. "I ate with Une at the office."

Without a word, Trowa stood up and headed for the bedroom.

"You need to do the dishes before that stuff turns into cement." was all he said when he caught Heero’s eye upon closing the door.  
  
  
  
Once again, Heero was buried in files. Trowa was beginning to feel the urge to drag him outside to the elephants and bury him in a pile of dung. The drawbacks of that being, of course, that Heero’s reactions to such things were far less satisfying than those of newbie clowns when they got a partially-digested-grass pie to the face instead of a custard one, and that attention from someone in such a disgusting state was perhaps even less welcome than no attention at all.

Luckily, there were other ways. And the post-hazing dropout rate among the clowns ensured that there were always plenty of people he _could_ cover in elephant droppings.

"You know, when I grew up nobody bothered to give me a name." Trowa said. He did so in a carefully planned and calculated way; not sounding too forceful or interested, too light hearted or plaintive, and most certainly not angrily. A calculated ‘talking about the weather’ type of levelness, instead of his usual laconic and mild-mannered one. He also made sure to be draped over the couch in such a way as to appear utterly bored, and to look out through a crack in the curtains rather than toward table.

"Me neither." Heero replied, almost absently. "I never told anyone my real name and they didn’t bother giving me a new one until Operation Meteor rolled around."

Trowa frowned. From the way he’d said that, Heero’s mind may as well be on auto-pilot. "It’s left marks on my psyche." he added, somewhat less monotonously. "I need my actions to be acknowledged, or I feel invisible and useless."

Heero frowned a little, scribbling something on one of the papers. "Have you been reading Freud again?"

Trowa repressed the urge to lean forward eagerly - but Heero didn’t even look up from his work, and turned the page when Trowa didn’t answer.

"Too crazy for me." he sighed dejectedly, and slumped back on the couch. "I shipped the book off to Wufei."

"Thanks for warning me. I’ll remember that the next time I work with him."

Somewhere deep inside of Trowa, a temper tantrum erupted that threw over all the furniture and tore down the flimsy walls of the trailer to beat Heero over the head with.

"I’m going to go feed the lions." he choked out.  
  
  
  
The Catherine-shaped shadow that had been looming over him for the last ten minutes stopped its foot-tapping, removed its fists from its hips, and crossed its arms across its chest.

"If she gets sick for real because of you treating her like she is, Hawthorne will have your head."

He scratched Daisy’s thick mane roughly. "She likes the attention. Don’t you, girl?"

"Trowa, go back to your trailer. She’s not sick. You don’t have to stay with her day and night."

"Heero doesn’t know that."

"This is about him?" From the corner of his eye, Trowa saw the shadow plant its face in its palms, and he heard it _gaaah_ in annoyance. "Trowa, we’ve been over this. Nothing good has ever come from your passive-aggressive behaviour. Stop sulking like a twelve-year-old and go do something useful."

Trowa grumbled something about dinners and toys.

"Besides, that guy is too dense to even get it."

Pausing, Trowa quirked an eyebrow and ventured to look up at Cathy. "You think?"

"I don’t think, I know. I’m the resident stoic people mind reader, remember?" she said with a - rather threatening - smirk.

Trowa made a defiantly sceptical face.

"Ask Relena if you don’t believe me."  
  
  
  
"Oh yes, terribly." said the vidphone image of Relena, whose hair was spilling over her shoulders wildly and who was clad only in a bathrobe. It must be early morning where she was. "Always had to spell everything out to him."

Trowa pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don’t get it. We work together so intuitively otherwise."

"Yeah, on the work floor he’s great. It’s outside of it that he’s clueless. He didn’t grow up the way we did, Trowa. We were raised surrounded by people, learning how to get along and play nice together and have a little fun in between school or work. Heero... had an assassin with a mid-life crisis who was so awkward with kids he had to make taking care of him a contract-enforced business arrangement. And a creepy old scientist with a metal claw and his goggles permanently fixed to his face."

They both took a moment to try to imagine what it would be like to be raised by J. They both gave up.

"Just be patient, explain your wishes and feelings clearly, and don’t be afraid to order him around from time to time."

Trowa raised an eyebrow. Relena winked.

"Trust me, he loves feeling like he’s got a job to do. If he really can’t stop himself, at least that way you’ll both have fun because of it."

"What’s this?" A third voice suddenly sounded from Relena’s end. "My Relena is talking to another man about another man? I cannot have that!"

A shirtless Duo appeared, throwing Relena over his shoulder unceremoniously and bending down to peer into the vidphone screen. Duo blinked at Trowa, while Relena yelped and flashed him some thigh.

"Heya buddy. Sorry to break off your consultation, but Relena and I are celebrating this weekend, and there are only so many hours in one weekend, you know?"

"Duo!" Relena protested laughingly, her right foot colliding with the screen.

"You’re having Heero-problems?" Duo asked.

Trowa nodded.

"Well, I’d have to be crazy to want to get it on with that kill-joy, but if I _were_ crazy, I’d try my luck with furry handcuffs."

"Hey, who are you calling crazy?" Heero’s ex said from behind Duo’s back.

"You’re crazy babe, and you know it. Welp, gotta go. See ya buddy."

"Good luck, Trowa!" Relena managed to get in, before Duo moved one hand a bit further up her tigh and jabbed at the ‘off’ button with the other.  
  
  
  
Trowa was still mulling Cathy, Relena and Duo’s words over a few days later when, without warning, Heero was standing over him.

"I need your help." he said.

Trowa, who had just come shuffling from the tiny trailer shower and had plonked down on the bed, too busy ‘acting like a twelve-year-old’ to bother drying his hair, raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I want to take you to a gay bar."

It was almost embarrassing how much and how fast Trowa perked up. It was like he’d fallen over onto a spring.

Heero took his obvious enthusiasm as a sign to sit down next to him and elaborate. "Our suspect’s headquarters has been determined to be in the recreational district of a city not far from here. We know which clubs he frequents, and they want to send me in to determine his exact whereabouts. But I’d need you to help me with my cover."

As Heero spoke, Trowa deflated bit by bit. Once he was done and looking at Trowa expectantly, the latter turned into a six foot tall, half naked human glower.

"What?" Heero asked, eyes wide and bewildered. "What’s that look?"

"Heero, remember back when we were gundam pilots and we had nothing to do for a while?" Trowa snarled. He somehow managed to make the snarl sound polite and patient. "We took a road trip through Europe. Just you and me, on the road, in a truck. You were trying to get pacifists to kill you, but still. Quality time."

Heero’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. "Yeah, I know, so -"

"You didn’t even tell me your name. I had to find out by listening in on your conversation with one of Noventa’s relatives. But relatively speaking, I had the time of my life. You know why?"

Heero opened his mouth, but Trowa wouldn’t let him get a word in sideways.

"Because we got to spend time together without you obsessing over your mission twenty-four seven. You paid attention to something other than your work." Trowa bit out every sentence, towering over Heero now. "You could be bothered to say ‘thank you’ when I worked my ass off for you. Don’t get me wrong, I’m the type of idiot who enjoys working their asses off for the people they care about, but is it really too much to ask for a little thanks in return every now and then?"

Heero blinked up at Trowa a few times in rapid succession. Then he burst out laughing. For a moment, Trowa was overcome with the icy fear that the overload of work had caused Heero to finally lose it again.

Then Heero said: "I’m sorry. I thought you’d be a little more patient."

And Trowa’s mouth fell open.

Still chuckling, Heero threw his arm around Trowa’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss. Trowa’s brain was going at the speed of morning traffic for the moment, so he let him. Getting no response, Heero drew back and settled for grinning as he enlightened Trowa.

"Preventors has an unusual arrangement for part-time employees. Apart from me and Duo they don’t have any, so Une let us set our own terms. For every time-intensive case - like this one, or undercover assignments - we get a corresponding period during which we can refuse cases. Vacation time. And with the new year low season coming, I thought we could take some time off together, maybe go on a road trip..."

With a firm smack to his forehead and a pinch to the bridge of his nose, Trowa managed to get himself into gear again. "And you couldn’t have told me this before you started ignoring me?"

Heero’s body language, if not Heero himself, said ‘Oops.’. "I didn’t think you’d be this bothered."

"Bothered? You were gone for three weeks and haven’t touched me with a finger since you came back." He fell back on the bed and allowed his mind just a bit longer to boggle. Then he took a deep breath, forced his mental affairs into a semblance of order, and blew out the frustration he had been feeling. All this time, Heero had been working on securing them vacation time. They’d never had a vacation together before. "It’s okay. But tell me about these things next time."

Heero nodded, looking very sincere and forgivable.

"When’s this vacation of yours scheduled?"

"Given that we find and capture this guy according to plan, a month or so."

"Fair enough. But if you think I’m going to settle for no sex for another month, I’m going to ask Duo where he gets his fuzzy handcuffs."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments on older fics will ALWAYS remain welcome.


End file.
